


maybe i fell in love, when you woke me up

by danceinstylinson



Category: The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3480530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceinstylinson/pseuds/danceinstylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little fic based on all the 2x19 predictions about who gets shot. This one is where Connor get's shot and Jude just really wants him to wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe i fell in love, when you woke me up

 

Connor’s dad kept yelling. 

At least that’s what it looked like, his face angry, his mouth opening and closing, hands flying, fingers being pointed. But Jude couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t hear his words, he couldn’t focus on anything. Not with the bright fluorescent lights of the emergency room. Not with the blinding white walls and white floors and constant, rhythmic beeps. 

Everything was blurring out of focus, and for a second he thought he would pass out. He stumbled backwards and a hand grabbed his arm, gently steadying him. 

“This was your idea, wasn’t it?” Mr. Stevens spat, his voice finally making its way through the fog in Jude’s head. “You dragged him into this! And now look what happened!” 

Jude tried to speak, tried to explain, but his voice was gone. And even if he could find the words, what was he to say? He couldn’t tell the truth. He couldn’t tell them that it was in fact Daria’s idea, not with the way she was crying now. Connor was her boyfriend after all, despite anything that might have been going on between him and Connor. He couldn’t do that to her, put the blame of this on her. And it didn’t seem like she was going to be admitting anything herself. He didn’t blame her, really, he didn’t. 

Wordlessly he turned away from Connor’s dad, turned his back to the screaming, the blame, the beeping and the bright lights. Taylor let go of his arm and let him walk away. And then — 

“It was me. It was my idea to go into the house.” 

Jude turned his head slowly, looking over his shoulder where Taylor and Mr. Stevens stood a few feet away. Behind them, Daria had looked up too, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

Mr. Stevens was quiet as Taylor spoke. She glanced back at Jude. “Jude didn’t even want to go. He actually warned us not to. But…but I begged him to come along. It was all me, though. Jude had nothing to do with it.” 

Taylor let out a breath and Mr. Stevens looked up passed her over to where Jude stood. “I’m sorry,” Mr. Stevens said, his voice tight. “I — I shouldn’t have blamed you, Jude.” 

They stared at each other for a few moments before Mr. Stevens beckoned him over. “Why don’t you come back over here. We can all…we can wait together? ’Til your moms get here…” 

Jude bit his bottom lip, considering for a moment, before slowly nodding his head. He quietly walked with them over to the hard plastic chairs. Daria sat beside Taylor right away, leaving Jude to sit in the only other available seat, beside Mr. Stevens. 

Mr. Stevens patted his knee and gave him a tight lipped smile. “It’ll be alright. Connor’s a fighter.” 

***

The minutes turned to hours, the hours turned to days. 

Jude had grown to hate everything about that hospital. It was too bright. The beeps were too loud. And everyone was so fake. The fake smiles, the fake words of optimism. 

It had been 5 days, 12 hours, and 55 minutes since Connor got shot. It had been 5 days, 12 hours, and 55 minutes since Jude had last heard Connors voice. Last seen his eyes. Last felt his fingers tighten around his hand. 

They’d gotten the bullet out. They’d sewn him up, put all the blood back in him, restarted his heart…

He’d been dead for twelve seconds. 

Twelve seconds during the operation. The doctors said it was nothing. They said he was fine. They’d restarted his heart right away, first try. He was fine. 

_He was fine._

But Jude couldn’t stop thinking about it. He sucked in a breath, eyes fixed on the clock. 

1…2….3…

He was dead. 

4…5…6…

His heart had stopped. 

7…8…9…

Twelve seconds. 

10…11…12…

Jude gasped for breath before shutting his eyes and slumping back into the stiff waiting room chair. 

“You can go in and see him, you know?” 

It was one of the nurses. She knew him well by now. Five days of him sitting in the waiting room too scared to go inside Connor’s room. Too scared to see it for himself. 

“Still not ready?” she asked, kneeling down beside him. 

Jude shook his head slowly. 

“I know you don’t believe us, but he really is okay. He just needs to heal. He’ll wake up on his own, I promise.” 

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe everything would be okay. He wanted to believe that Connor would wake up and everything would go back to how it had been. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. Not with Daria glued to his bedside. Not with Connor’s dad suddenly trusting Jude. They couldn’t go back now. When Connor woke up…It would all be over. This fantasy they’d been living in, the one where they got to be together in the end. 

He was going to break up with her. 

That night Connor was going to break up with Daria, he’d said so. But now…

“Jude!” 

Jude looked up at the sound of his name. 

Daria. 

“Hey,” he said, getting to his feet. She wrapped her arms around him tightly. Jude awkwardly patted her back. 

“I’m so glad you’re here. I need to leave, but I don’t want him to be alone. You’ll sit with him, won’t you?” 

“Uh—“ 

“He shouldn’t be alone. What if he wakes up and he’s all alone?” 

Her eyes were wide, pleading. 

“Uh, y-yeah. Sure. I’ll s-sit with him,” Jude stammered, trying to shrug off the nerves — the _fear_ — of seeing Connor unconscious, hooked up to beeping machines. 

Daria hugged him again. “Thank you,” she whispered. “He’s so lucky to have you. You’re such a good friend.” 

_Friend_. 

The word stung. Hot like a burn. Tender like a bruise. 

He pulled away from Daria, suddenly feeling sick. 

Memories filtered in, Connor’s lips soft on his. Connor’s finger wrapped around _his_. Connor pinning him down on the ground. Connor pressing against him on his bed. Connor’s hand lingering on his back. Connor in the tent. Connor holding his hand under tables, in the dark, in the house that night. _Connor, Connor, Connor_. 

Connor his _friend_. 

Connor his…

Jude glanced at Daria. It wasn’t fair to her either. “I’m sorry,” Jude whispered, so low he barely made a sound. 

“Did you say something?” 

Jude shook his head, looking down at his hands. He didn’t look back up until she was gone. 

***

The room was dark, a stark contrast to the too-bright waiting room. 

The curtains were drawn, and the only light came from the door and the glow of the beeping machines. Jude slowly inched into the room, making his way towards the chair beside Connor’s bed. He hadn’t even looked at him yet, focusing his eyes on anything and everything but Connor. The machines. The wires. The window, the floor, the chair, the foot of the bed, the baseball magazines left on the bedside table. 

When he’d looked at every inch of the room three times over he finally— _finally_ — let his eyes fall on the boy lying in bed. His best friend. Eyes shut, so peaceful like he’d seen him hundreds of times before. He always thought Connor looked different sleeping. Younger, softer. He remembered the night in the tent. After their first kiss. 

Of course they hadn’t talked about it then. It was just one of those things that happened and then was mutually forgotten. An unspoken promise. _I won’t mention it if you don’t_. They went to bed late that night. They shouldn’t have been up in the first place. But they had. And in those late hours of the night, or morning, they’d kissed. Shy and tentative and a little awkward. And then after, they’d turned out the light quick. Connor had fallen asleep first but Jude couldn’t keep his mind from spinning. The only thing that eventually brought him some peace was seeing Connor asleep, his face so calm. 

It was crazy how fast things could change. 

He needed Connor to open his eyes now. Seeing his eyes light up, seeing his lips twist into that lopsided smile of his, it was the only thing that would ease his mind. He knew none of this was his fault, he knew that deep down, but it didn’t stop him from blaming himself. If only he’d just been more stubborn, if only he’d insisted they stay home. 

_But its not my fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault really_ , he reminded himself. But he really needed Connor to wake up now. Five days was long enough to be gone. 

Slowly he inched closer to the bed, his eyes flicking up to Connor’s face and then down to his hand. He reached out with his own hand and carefully placed it beside Connor’s. 

He looked fine. He didn’t look like someone who’d been shot.He didn’t look like someone who’d been dead for twelve seconds. He looked _fine_. He looked like Connor. 

Jude swallowed past the lump in his throat, trying to get words out. Lena had said that people in comas can hear you. He wanted Connor to hear him. 

“Connor?” Jude said slowly. His voice was rough and scratchy from disuse. He hadn’t exactly gone mute again, but he just hadn’t been talking much these days. There wasn’t much to say. 

“Connor, please,” he tried again, his voice shaking a little. “I really need you to wake up, okay?” 

The machines continued to beep and otherwise the room was silent as ever. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier,” Jude went on, his voice just above a whisper. “I just— I was scared. Scared to see you like this.” 

He sighed and looked down at his lap, blinking back tears. “I really wish you’d talk to me,” he said quietly, suddenly remembering when he’d stopped speaking a few months ago. Now he knew what that must have been like for Connor and the rest of his family. “I hate this. I hate seeing you like this. I —“ 

Jude looked at their hands lying next to each other. Slowly he inched his pinky towards Connors, hooking them together like Connor had done what seemed like ages ago. “I’m right here. If you can hear me just — Just squeeze back.” Jude tightened his hold on Connor’s pinky slightly, and then waited. He knew nothing was going to happen, so when nothing did it wasn’t much of a disappointment. Still he held out hope. He kept their pinkies linked. 

“I really…Well…” Jude took a breath. “I love you. As my best friend. And as…more than that. And I think you do too. And I think you already know how I feel, I think you’ve known for a long time. And…I just really, really need you to wake up. Because…This can’t be it, okay? I need you to wake up, and you need to beat me at that Star Wars game and we have that science project and you promised we’d go see the new Avengers movie together and— I need my best friend back, okay?” 

Jude didn’t know exactly when he’d started crying, but now his cheeks were wet from the tears and his hands were sweaty and he almost didn’t even notice, almost didn’t even feel the slightest pressure around his pinky. 

He glanced up so fast. Connor’s brows furrowed and his lips parted slightly. And then in a weak, breathy voice, but Connor’s voice all the same he said, 

“I love you, too.” 

 

 


End file.
